Good Day, Arthur
by Just an onlooker
Summary: A shadow cloaked figure hypnotizes Arthur. (USUK, dubcon?)


Part 1; I will continue this later hopefully. A request from long, long ago. Some serious dubcon, you have been warned.

* * *

It was an old pocket watch, tarnished, with a broken clasp so that the cover hung askew over a cracked face. The second hand rutted against the seven, but grit in the gears halted its rotation.

Arthur woke to find it dangling in front of his face.

The chain trailed up and wrapped around solid knuckles. Beyond that, Arthur could not squint far enough into the darkness. Instead, he looked to the side where curtains hung limp in the heat and a candle on the table in front sputtered as it clung to life. Humidity seeped through the open window.

"Who's there?" Arthur's voice sounded muted somehow in the thick darkness. He shifted a little. Leather strips cut into his wrists as he tried to pull his hands from behind him. Bound. "Release me at once. I am not amused by your foolish antics." He kept his tone cool, eyes glancing back to the watch. His captor was lingering a foot away, little more than a silhouette.

"Relax," his captor murmured.

The hair stood on the back of Arthur's neck. A chill prickled along overheated skin and turned the sweat dripping down his forehead ice cold. He struggled again, but the chair barely rocked—too heavy to do much more than creak and groan no matter how he threw his weight.

He felt a hand—the one not holding the chain—clamp down on his shoulder, tightly at first, though it loosened slowly as his captor drew nearer. His breath was warm across Arthur's face. The chain had lowered, twisting. Arthur found his eyes drawn to it.

"Why have you brought me here?" Arthur finally asked. He pressed his body to the back of the chair as if he could pass right through and escape his captor's stare. His nerves coiled and writhed within him. His heart clawed against the confines of his heaving chest.

The hand on his shoulder eased down his arm and finally rested on Arthur's thigh. It shifted uncomfortably high and gave a little squeeze. Arthur hissed through his teeth, brows shooting into a fierce glower as he shot rigid.

"Unhand me at once—"

That hand rubbed a little circle there. "No, I don't think I will. If anything, I'll be the one giving the orders, got it Artie?"

Arthur kicked at his captor, but met only air. He had retreated a few feet.

The chain swung one arch. It moved as if in slow motion, pale light glancing off each link as it halted at the peak of rotation on one side then slowly swooped down and up on the other side. Arthur blinked furiously, but the image had burned into his retinas. With a jolt of panic, he wrenched his head to one side.

"What do you intend on doing?" he grunted.

The chain jerked to a halt and dangled again. The voice that followed was quiet, thoughtful. "Arthur, Arthur. It is time for you to relax, haven't I said that before? You are always so tense…about everything. I'm here to teach you to finally relinquish control."

"You intend on hypnotizing me, do you?" Arthur demanded as the watch swung again. He kept his eyes fixed instead on the candle. "I can tell you where to shove that absurd fantasy—"

* * *

Arthur's eyes fluttered open and shut, slowly. How much time had passed? That velvet purr of a voice had become one with the darkness, until it and the steady swing of the chain became more than just his surroundings.

When had his captor even begun speaking. The last thing he remembered was fighting back. He hissed and tugged against his restraints, but his arms were weak and his eyes glued to the watch. His body went lax again.

A low groan rumbled from Arthur's throat. Somehow that voice seeped past his understanding and dug deeper into his brain.

"That's it, Arthur. That's it. Just give in. You're doing so well."

Arthur licked his lips. His tongue felt like leather. "Un…unhand me…"

"Shhhh…"

The watch swung an even wider arc. Arthur's vision glazed over and his eyelids drooped. Time became nothing as the watch became everything.

His captor's voice hid a smile. "Now, we can really begin, right Arthur."

He patted his face. Arthur did not respond.

Finally, he pulled closer, until the glow of the candle dug into the shadows of his face, just behind the chain. The light glinted from glasses and off bright blue eyes. Alfred F. Jones smiled and continued to speak.

"You're in a trance right now, Arthur. And while you're in this trance, I'm going to impress upon you a few important…things. Things that will be true and that will linger in the back of your mind at all times."

Alfred's smile widened a little, but his eyes were as patient as ever. "First. I am your master. Your owner. Whatever you prefer. Every pleasure neuron in your body fires at the thought of obeying me. I tell you to wash the dishes, and it excites you. Awaiting and fulfilling my orders fill you with desire."

Alfred rubbed Arthur's thigh again. His captive's breath hitched.

"Second. You crave me. Every second of every day. You will not remember these trances, but something in the back of your mind screams for them."

He glanced down at the bulge peaking from Arthur's trousers.

"And last. All I need to do to put you in a trance are the words 'Good day, Arthur'. Now. Arthur Kirkland, I am going to stop swinging this chain now. You will not remember any of this. You will wake from your trance as soon as your head hits your pillow upstairs."


End file.
